Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You weren’t sure the last time?” I said, maybe a bit too loud.

“That is a question for a time when you’re not already angry with me,” he said quickly.  “And besides.  I’ve got the feeling that this is the last time you’re going to be allowed out for a long, long time.”

“I’m already not allowed out,” I said.  “That’s kind of my point.”

Matt swallowed the bite and soon all forms of joking left his expression.  “Maggie,” he said, practically pleading.  “Please.  Come with me.  You’re going to want to see this.” He turned and started to walk away and I guess he expected me to follow him.  Rightfully so, I suppose.  I’ve been following him since I could walk, so why would that night have been any different?  I slid out of the covers, pulled some pants on, and took cautious steps into the hallway.  What if it was a trap?  What if Aunt Bex was testing me?

“We need someone to cover for us,” I heard my brother say, an abnormal hush in his tone.  He didn’t want me to hear him, but he should know by now that I hear everything.

“We’ve gone to bed together every night since I’ve gotten here,” Scout hissed back.  “Do you really think Bex wouldn’t be suspicious if I were to suddenly start sleeping on the couch?  If I go with you, she’ll figure we’ve just gone to bed.”

Matt struggled for words, lost somewhere in between Scout’s accuracy and his own stupidity.  He and I are the same in that way.  Both too stubborn to be proven wrong.  “You don’t have to be there.  I can handle it.”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” said Scout.

“I won’t be alone,” argued Matt.  “I’ll have Maggie.”

I could practically hear the eye roll.  “Right.  Because she’s in such great shape—listen to me Matt.  This is a horrible idea, but if you’re going to do it then you’re going to do it with someone else around.”

These are the conversations I love hearing the most.  The ones that I’m not supposed to.  The ones that give away bits of information, one piece at a time until you have the whole puzzle.  These are the conversations that make me feel something inside—make me light up when I feel darkest.  And so I kept listening, thinking that if words were a drug, then I was an addict.

Matt took a breath in, probably to protest further, but Scout beat him to the punch.  “If you think I’m above whistleblowing, you’re wrong.  I will call your Aunt so fast—”

The floor creaked as I took a step forward and two of the best operatives I knew turned to look over their shoulders.  Caught, I stepped out of the shadows.  “Ready?” I asked, not even sure that I was.

For a moment, the two of them stood there, staring.  Staring at me, I realized.  Looking at me as if I hadn’t completely come out of the shadows—as if they were still lingering along my body and two of the smartest boys I knew couldn’t quite figure out how.  Maybe they were right.  Maybe the shadows were stuck with me.  Under my eyes.  Along my cheekbones.  Anywhere they could tuck themselves into.  Maybe I was just a halfway home for darkness.

Matt cleared his throat, standing up a bit straighter.  Scout shook the thought away.  “Yeah,” said my brother, grabbing a jacket from the hook at his side.  He held it open to me, waiting for me to slide my arms in, and nearly buttoned it for me, too.  It was as if he thought we were still kids getting ready to play out in the snow and I couldn’t zip up with mittens on.  The eternal big brother, that Matthew Goode. “Let’s go,” he said, slipping a cap on his head.

I took a step towards the door, but then Scout held out his hand in front of me.  “Where’s your sandwich?”

He looked genuinely insulted and I had to try not to laugh.  “On the nightstand, I think?”